


Fear of heights

by sureva



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Drinking, M/M, North is the worst wingman, Office Romance, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-24
Updated: 2020-03-24
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:48:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23294257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sureva/pseuds/sureva
Summary: Office romance. Sparks fly between coworkers; then things get awkward. Will the office party save or ruin the situation?
Relationships: Markus/Simon (Detroit: Become Human)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 51





	Fear of heights

Markus Manfred had got himself a job. 

Accounting wasn’t what he had dreamed of doing when in college, but the economy made it just about the only job viable. It’s a cruel world -as a kid he had wanted to become a painter like his father, but surviving financially meant cutting off some dreams. He had been taught he could become whatever he wanted, but well… Maybe after retirement!

Looking at the bright side, his new job was in Detroit; his favorite city in the world. The dusty office bugged him considerably less when he saw the incredible view over the city. The busy streets down below, the many windows of the nearby tower blocks reflecting the evening light... It was his. Markus knew the streets like his own pockets, had grown up there.

Watching the people and cars swarm through the vivid metropolis life, he appreciated the rain that washed the subway window, obscuring the view like in a painting. It took some commuting from his flat to the office, but he had no complaints.

Starting at a new job is always a hassle. Company work turned out to be quite a lot more eventful than what Markus had imagined; a simple stock crash or a bankruptcy could send days of their hard work down the drain in a minute. Reading the numbers and the signs required sharp observation skills. Fortunately, that was just what Markus had and he was quick to get the hang of it.

Well, especially with a certain instructor. The new recruit had been put on the shoulders of another team’s cornerstone with the reasoning that he was particularly good with orientating the newbies. Markus couldn’t defy that reasoning; he was an exceptional teacher. 

His name was Simon. 

Simon had been on the company for a few years, and on the field even longer. His reputation was respectable. Guiding Markus’ rougher, darker hands on the keyboard with his pale and slender ones, he never once got mad at him for making the same mistakes over and over again. His effort bore fruit in just a few weeks; the man became accustomed to the computer work. 

The amateur’s clumsiness might have been gone; but what Markus couldn’t shed was the urge to catch glimpses of the other man in the ghostly screen light.

Simon was blond, with a kind and patient face. Being a few years older but just a tad shorter made the combination, well, _cute_. Markus had acknowledged his interest in men early, not that the attribute could easily be read from his appearance. High school as a soccer captain had been hell managing between the boys’ locker room and having the entire cheerleader team crushing on him. He had been nervous for his future working life: but now that he had arrived he only felt calm curiosity. Laid back, Markus decided to not stress about office romance too much.

He could just as well have a little fun while he was at it. And so, it started with sharing work spaces, coffee breaks, lunch times. At one point when the fall rains were hammering the building with force, Markus caught Simon outside keeping rain on a bus stop with his briefcase over his head. Markus had his black umbrella always with him, and was able to save the other man from the predicament. After that, they were really friends.

As bashful as he was to admit it, Markus really enjoyed Simon’s company. He was always able to soothe his tangled mind in the middle of some particularly frustrating problem. It went on to the point that eventually, Markus caught himself subconsciously looking for that blond head in the break room, as conversing with him was so miraculously destressing. Most of the other businessmen liked to argue, had chosen the field for that. Those people made it to Markus’ ‘to-be-avoided’ -list.

For opposing that character trait, Simon was known as this kind of bland guy by most of the office. Markus couldn’t care about their opinion less. Most of them just wanted to gossip, not that there was anything to gossip about Simon. The newcomer knew that there was something underneath the soft exterior his upperclassman put up to the world; for him, Simon was a person of great interest. Confident in his judgement Markus put his intuition in it.

Days came and went with the comfortable buzz of the office, the highs and lows of banking. Soon, the leaves really started to contort outside the building’s many windows as fall trundled in. The colors crunched underneath Markus’ dress shoes on the gates, the cool autumn air bringing about change.

It was a drowsy afternoon in the company break room. Markus was stirring the lukewarm coffee in his paper cup absently as North banged to the table.

“How’s Mr. Popular?”

North was in charge of investments in Markus’ department. It was her specialty to make the most out of every situation, work or otherwise. Boldness and straightforwardness were gifts that she definitely wielded -sometimes expertly, sometimes, well… not with appropriate discretion.

The opening refreshed the stagnated air in the room. She earned a laugh out of the person in question, a confused one. “What are you talking about?” Markus questioned. 

“I’m talking about _him_ ” North hushed, raising her eyebrows meaningfully. She nodded towards another table across the room, over Markus’ shoulder. The man turned to take as discreet glance as possible of whatever she was pointing at.

Simon stood at the bar height table with some of his department’s men. Upon realizing today’s topic Markus twisted back in his chair.

“What about Simon?”

“He likes you” North hit him with. The man would’ve wanted to laugh, to declare how nonsensical she sounded, but found himself knocked sideways and stayed quiet. North gestured him closer, and leaning over the table like she was about to spill the biggest secret shared the conspiracy.

“Listen. Simon’s been working here for six years, and I’ve never seen him act so affectionately with anyone as he does with you. He might just be a very private person, but you guys just click somehow. Don’t try to tell me I’m not onto something here.”

Markus couldn’t agree. How could he? He didn’t know Simon as very closed off -he had always been nothing but kind and amenable to him. Almost too much so; Markus felt like he was pouring too much of his soul out for others, going bare. His boundless compassion and care were enviable, making their target prone to hope that they would always receive such treatment... At least that’s how it was with him. 

He had assumed Simon was the same with everyone. Markus had forgotten his gaze wistfully at the back of that downy blond head. It was his first mistake of many; Simon had felt the stare, got the goosebumps of being talked about over their coffees, and turned to look around. Their eyes met; inevitably so. Immediately on the image of Markus his face brightened to that signature smile of thousand suns.

Markus was blinded. Before he could say anything to save himself in North’s eyes, Simon’s group started to gather their stuff synchronically. The blond found himself in a haste, and just gave him a cute little wave before throwing out his cup. Markus was stuck with his own hand partially in the air as he failed to return the greeting. His face was heating up. 

At that point the man could feel the look North was giving him from outside the picture. She gave him a shove between the ribs with her sharp elbow before following the others’ lead.

Markus was left alone in the empty cafeteria. The clock ticked; marking the end of the break, but the sound was hardly enough to ignite any sense of duty in him. Now, it just subsided to keep him company alongside the one thought inside his head.

_Oh, fuck me._

After that particularly awkward afternoon, Markus started noticing... things. He thought it was because North had planted that idea into his head, but on the other hand, couldn’t deny the patterns in Simon’s behavior. 

The smiles he threw at his direction. The way he held his watch, his cufflinks, anything between his fingers as a nervous habit when they talked. It was insanely cute, enough to send Markus’ head spinning. As the fall went on, Markus would take any excuse he could find just to talk to him. Although the moments were often ruined with other personnel walking in on them, he treasured every occasion.

However, their main antagonist became North stalking over counter. Markus realized that they had become her personal entertainment, their lives an office drama meant for a movie night and popcorn. She was very keen on watching the ‘thing’ unfold between him and Simon. Markus denied that no such ‘thing’ existed in the first place (although he kind of hoped that it did). Every coffee break drained into their pointless arguments, after of which Markus went to Simon to destress. 

The workers had drifted into a comfortable series of habits, everyone aware of their own role in it. Then, as if they’d just grown bored; just when Markus least expected it, came the worst thing imaginable. 

Simon stopped talking to him. 

For no reason at all, just as abruptly and meaninglessly as they had started. They stopped seeing at work spaces, during coffee breaks and lunch time. If they happened to pass in the hallway, Simon always pulled that strange expression, which turned his lips to a thin line and his eyes pained. 

Markus had no idea what he had done. Or what could be done -to restore something -to save them from that inevitable fall into awkwardness and avoidance. He wasn’t sure if there was a name for it, missing something that had never happened, but it was there strong and palpable between them.

The orientation had ended months ago, so there really wasn’t anything to bind them together. Markus couldn’t find any real reason to talk to him, as all the earlier occasions had just been them finding excuses. Their friendship started to feel like an illusion; so thoroughly was it vanishing without any evidence of it ever taking place. 

Markus couldn’t confront him about it. Every time he tried, Simon attempted to mask the reality with some distraction. He just happened to be in a hurry; in the middle of some elaborate project, and couldn’t talk right now. It went back and forth with him; only making Markus sharper. He knew when Simon was lying. It was all the time.

For some reason he wanted to be alone. It was not in relation to North’s intervention or any other factor Markus could extract, so at the end of the day he was unarmed. To pursuit him further or to respect his wish, was the predicament Markus woke up every day during the week. Life’s a funny thing, he thought; first it would give him the best it could offer, and the next thing he knew, take it away.

It was a quiet lunch break. Markus had barely touched his meat loaf with his fork. He caught himself constantly eyeing the other table, eyeing _him_ , despite the way Simon politely pretended that he didn’t see it. As if he had just ceased to exist for him -but didn’t he just catch Simon glancing at his direction? Was that the reason the male was now looking away in an exaggerated fashion, ears gaining subtle color?

Just when Markus couldn’t have been deeper in his hallucinations, North banged her hands on the table. She seemed to do that on purpose, making him jump.

“Jesus, woman, you startled me”, Markus complained in a pique. North didn’t listen.

“Say you’re coming tonight”, she rode him over with. Markus gave an awkward, breathless laugh, indicating his sheer puzzlement. “What on Earth are you talking about now?”

Her eyes flashed. “The company Christmas party, of course!”

The floor was sticky. The tables were sticky. They hadn’t bothered with wiping any of the surfaces properly, for it was just an office party. The bar was crammed and dark with loud music generating even smaller space for conversation. It made Markus restless beyond remedy: he wasn’t interested in getting drunk, but saw the gathering as an opportunity to get linked with some important people. Who knows how high in the company hierarchy it could take him someday! So with the perseverance of a 25-year-old man he was determined to find himself company.

The night took off well. Sailing in the middle of chairs and drunken exhilaration, Markus was able to catch some interesting personas from the other departments’ bosses. He moved while keeping the location of his department’s table in mind, so he would have a haven to crash to at all times.

Caught up in a long and interesting convo with Josh from the finance, the man became immune to the passing of time. When he finally ripped himself off of it, a big chunk of the night had vanished. It was high time to find Simon.

The nearer he got to North’s claimed table, the more bad omens he picked up. Her corner was easily the loudest of the cave; the towers of empty glasses piling to impressive heights. Just as the man reached the slot, the party exploded into a roaring laughter over some strange matter.

“What’s going on here?“

Markus stood at the end of the table, which every attendant on both sides was completely and utterly drunk.

“We did shots”, North exclaimed. She was ecstatic; but the sparkling clarity in her voice suggested that she wasn’t exactly as wasted as the others. She wanted to keep all the strings in her hands, and the attention on her. Markus deemed her the devil.

The man’s answer was drowned out with a fit of laughter erupting. North gestured him to sit down, and Markus didn’t intend to spoil the fun from any of them, even the devil. So he plopped down next to Simon, who was squished to the corner of a black velvet couch, and that’s were the history of that night began. 

People appeared and disappeared into the fog. Moving in packs and pairs, they leaned closer into each other on the counter, over stray unfinished drinks. It was dark, and in the few colored lights that spilled from the dance floor Markus turned to look at him directly, for the first time the whole night. 

Simon was laughing; open-mouthed and uninhibited. It felt almost inappropriate to witness: the man had been so reserved the months they had known each other that sober Simon would’ve been mortified by the view. Despite the awareness, Markus couldn’t help but stare. It was audacious of him, rude almost; but the fact that he would most likely forget was of his reassurance. Simon’s freedom of being was so rare Markus felt like he had hit pay dirt, the gold of his smile raining over him.

And so, the man was forgotten to watch. He simply registered Simon moving in an erratic, incoherent joy until bumping into him. 

The blond blinked the intoxication out of his eyes. He seemed surprised that someone had appeared next to him, wondering when had it happened. It wasn’t until the shapes and colors assembled into an image of _him_ that his haze turned into an absolute delight. 

_“Markus”_ , Simon whispered breathlessly. Struggling to determine if it was a dream or not, he stared straight into him, or through, or at the idea of him. Then, as an attempt to lean closer, he was all around Markus’ lap as he wasn’t quite in control of his physique drunk.

“Simon”, Markus replied, pulling the other man upwards. He wasn’t the easily fazed type as of usual, but something in Simon’s condition was throwing him off balance. Might have had something to do with the fact that he had drank some himself. Holding the blond by his arms he intended to return him on his place on the sofa. Simon decided otherwise. Leaning into his grip instead, he slurred something along the lines of:

“I’m _so_ happy you’re here.”

Markus froze as the blond melted against him. What on Earth was going on? If he hadn’t known better, he would’ve called the expression on Simon’s face _love-struck_. An absolute one, too. Then again, what did he know about him anymore? 

_Nothing_ , a pesky little voice in the back of his head reminded him. Still, Markus decided strictly against taking any hints, the dark blanket of confusion over the bar remaining. Simon wasn't himself at the moment. 

It was hard to keep his stance, though. Hard to remove the wasted man by his shoulders, put him back to the moth-eaten sofa. The deafening noise trundled in the air tirelessly, making Markus’ plight sweaty and dull. 

“I’m happy too, Simon, but listen- You’re-” Markus tried. He turned towards the other man with the harf formed thought; the rest vanishing in the process.

Half-filled glasses covered the surface of the wood. The contents of some had spilled over, the unidentified liquid forming gooey, darkening trails. Simon’s face was flushed. It made Markus’ heart skip a beat; the sight of his parted lips latching his breath. He was saying something, but the HD view of his mouth and tongue distracted the other man useless.

“Sorry, I didn’t quite catch that. Could you repeat it for me?” Markus’ voice came out polite like a receptionist’s, only the light shiver in it giving him away. The bar had started to spin around him, the colors and the reeking booze turning into something of a seasickness.

Simon sighed. The blond head moved even closer, the arbitrary light spilling across his features. Markus stared intently at his lips as he spoke, the sloppy movement making him bite his own to stifle the urge to kiss him into the sofa. And so, the confession fell incomprehensive again, merging into the pulsating darkness. 

Although unusual, the carelessness Simon possessed tonight was utterly charming. Markus became indecisive with how should he react to his inability to hold his booze. Whatever crazy fondness his helplessness evoked in him was overwhelmed with worry; Simon was obviously in no condition to look after himself. Although still distracted by his feverish whisper (What had he tried to say?), the man became anxious towards the rest of the night.

It was the worst moment to realize North’s gaze on them from the other side of the table. Judging by the way her smile was turning sly she had most likely set them up, but Markus had no evidence. Did she know how Simon was when drunk? 

A strangling feeling started to form around Markus’ chest. This wasn’t right. He wouldn’t give in to the audience and take advantage of Simon when he wasn’t in his right mind. The whole setting was disturbing; Markus was trying to find a discreet way out, when he felt his sleeve being tugged.

Simon was tired of trying to make sense. Leaning on Markus’ shoulder, his hot fingertips brushed his skin below Markus’ rolled up sleeve. It was definitely not helping; the darker man could feel the touch through the thin cotton, the fabric already sticking to his armpits. The smaller male’s weight on him was perfect for diverting his focus from the problem.

The problem became even needier. Persistently inching closer, Simon reached to nest his face in the crook of his neck. Markus stayed still out of some sedate curiosity towards his intentions. As he showed zero protests, Simon proceeded to nuzzle the stubble behind his ear with his nose. He breathed contently, and the air stuck on Markus’ skin _hot_. It increased the pressure between his ears, distributing it to… other places. Everything was raising his blood pressure unbearably. Then, Simon’s lips brushed his earlobe. 

Markus’ heartbeat revved up. The electrification thickened and features became more complicated under the fairy lights, the chaos in the room turning more profound by second. Every beat from the band in Markus’ ears, every high cymbal of a woman’s laugh doubled, _tripled_ it; until losing control. He had to get out.

“I’m taking Simon home” the man declared suddenly, surprising the party. Especially North; her reaction proved true his theory that she was there to just enjoy the show. Unfortunately, the man had decided to put an end to it. He turned back to the blond, who looked like he was floating somewhere in the world, just not this one.

“Simon? I’m sorry for this.” Markus’ thick apology didn’t relent his guilt as he probed the tight pockets of Simon’s jeans. After feeling around the smaller man for what felt like an undignified amount of time was he satisfied. He had discovered his wallet, cellphone, keys, and the coat tag in the single pocket of his dress shirt. Ignoring North’s snickering about the operation he concluded them ready. 

The curtain dropped; Markus propped his upperclassman against his shoulder. After waving goodbye to the party people and displeased North, he scooted to retrieve their jackets from the coat check.

Cold November air hit them in the face. The light feeling expanded in Markus’ lungs, driving him to sober up from the earlier madness. Simon was blinking confused, too; the cramped pressure of the bar had kept him comfortable, but the wide pale sky showed no mercy. Dangling awkwardly off the other man’s shoulder, he was at least walking as soon as he realized he was expected to. 

Markus led them to a taxi post and sat down. There was no soul around: Detroit’s ghostly streets were blue and abandoned at one am at night. Simon was shivering slightly next to him. Looking around, he asked “Where are we?”, shy and curious like a child. Markus was bound to his helpless attraction.

“I’m taking you home” he told him again. Had it slipped from his comprehension. Markus skimmed over the other man by stealth; Simon’s light jacket drooped open from his shoulders, providing him no shelter from the early winter wind. Prompted look around the place confirmed that they were alone; therefore his shamelessness with bringing the other man closer. Simon was willing to be guided, meekly leaning his heavy head against the offered shoulder. Everything happened in utter silence, the mutual acceptance and trust so deep that the interruption felt almost invading as a car pulled up.

Markus adjusted Simon’s seat belt before leaning forward to give the taxi driver his address. Great thing they had exchanged contacts. Returning to the back seat he found the blond already nodding off, coaxed by the warmth. Leaning back into his own seat, Markus scrolled through his notifications absently, the subdued car sounds his only company in the liminal hour.

“Markus…?”

The owner of the name unlocked himself and scooted over to the middle seat, bracing himself in case Simon was implying that he needed to puke. But Simon had only called out his name out of uncertainty, loneliness even after he had woken up in unfamiliarity. Recognizing the face hovering over him he grew calmer.

Markus watched his gentle deer eyes as their stare fell unfocused, before brightening again in the image of his. He wondered how many times he would be glad to be not alone, for there didn’t seem to be an end to it… And there wasn’t. Simon fell in love with his company over and over again, with every inch they jumped closer as the car hit a bump in the road. In the heat of that moment, and with the boldness the alcohol in his veins gave him, Simon pressed his mouth against his experimentally.

Markus was caught off guard, but was fast to bounce back. Cupping Simon’s cheek he pulled him in, taking over the kiss.

The weeks and weeks of anticipation and buildup Markus had withstood, culminated and it was everything. He shouldn’t have had any doubts, he realized as he leaned over his coworker, hands against the black leather beside his head. He shouldn’t have doubted his intuition, having been right about them from the start.

Simon made a weak sound against his lips. Markus complied with his plea, correcting the synchronized movement of their jaws. Wasn't it inappropriate? They were still in their work clothes, making out in the backseat of a taxi of all places. They had barely passed that world, the one of properness and obligations and publicity, that had robbed them of this for so long. Markus decided that none of those things mattered. The feeling of Simon’s mouth against his, even with the taste of alcohol between them, was the pinnacle of his desire. Finally attained it he wasn’t letting him go.

Simon let his head fall back against the headrest, hands meekly clinging on Markus’ shirt. The other man understood the desperate message his surrendering gave; begging him to _take me, for I have nothing else to give_. He just had to be kissed right now to declare his still intact humanity, breathing and all. Markus wondered absently who had broken his heart that bad. To unbreak it by some mean, he took Simon’s face in his hands, stroking his cheek with his thumb. Looking at the smaller man below him confirmed him just how necessary it was, how much he needed the guidance.

Cars passed them on both sides of the highway. The view went past in a blurred parade of smudged colors, only the street lights maintaining regularity. Love manifested itself wordless and unsuited. They kissed like it’d free them from their mundane life; like the foggy glass would be enough to protect them from the white morning light. They no longer had an address other than the night, many irregular miles of it in front of them. 

Their unraveling happened simple like an afterthought, ending up just like a dream beyond your conscious memory.

“Markus, don't leave me”, Simon begged, hands still holding onto the fabric of his shirt. Markus felt physically ill having to remove the needy man from his sides. 

“I have to, Simon.” 

It was nearing two am in the morning. Markus had tipped the driver well even though he was fairly sure they weren’t the first couple to have drunken shenanigans in the backseat. Afterwards he had dragged Simon up to his bland flat, and now found himself stuck on his doorstep struggling to say goodbye.

Simon’s giving up was plain to see; crushing to be the one to hurt him so. Markus had to remind himself that Simon was completely under the influence at the moment, and would have to sober up before he could think that any of this was real.

And so, he was locked in to watch his head lower, his empty palms returning to hold each other for comfort. Rejected and abandoned, Simon dragged himself inside the apartment like a sad puppy while the other man turned to leave.

“Markus?”

He stopped in the stairwell for the last time. “Yeah?”

“Just… come back.” 

Markus slid the door shut. Returning to the cold streets, illuminated by the pale joyless dawn he couldn’t think of anything.

The next day at work was excruciating. Grey faces passed each other in every floor of the building; several had called in sick. Apparently, suspiciously many of the office workers had gotten an abrupt flu. Markus wondered if Simon had survived last night and to the workplace; he had, against all the odds. Although sitting neatly on his chair at 8 am on a Monday morning the vicious hangover had been plain on his face. 

“Oh, take this awful headache from me”, North whined, arms thrown over her desk even more shamelessly than usual. Markus’ attention was snapped from Simon to her, and he shook his head and laughed. 

“How much did you guys ended up drinking?”

Apparently North had been drinking too. It made the man feel a bit more at ease about taking Simon away. His thoughts crept tenderly back to last night; to the kiss and the meaning behind it. Simon hadn’t avoided him today so he must have felt no regret either.

Giddy, Markus had a hard time waiting for lunch where he would ask Simon about it. Although his head was perfectly fine he had trouble concentrating on any work, similar to his hungover mates.

Love is a powerful drug; Simon's the one who had awakened it in him. Markus had obviously been crushing, but wouldn't have in his wildest dreams guessed that the blond would like him back. It made him excited beyond measure, like a kid on a Christmas morning. Although he had had almost no sleep last night because of him, he was energetic to the point of restlessness, the electricity taking over his body.

He hadn’t felt that alive for years. Tapping his feet on the carpeted floor Markus made up his mind.

It wasn’t even ten in the morning when Markus slid next to Simon with an office chair. Crossing his legs casually, he purred “How are you doing?”, low and intimate. Raising his hand to Simon's neck he massaged the back of his head comfortingly.

Simon flinched visibly. Turning around in his chair, he raised his eyes on him carefully as if sensitive of light. 

“Uh… Good? Other than this terrible headache I’m having.” The look on his face was utterly confused; nervous sweat gathering upon his brow as he pronounced his answer.

Markus’ face fell. He retreated his hand in a swift, subtle move.

“Simon, how much do you remember of last night?”

Simon turned light pink. “N...Not much, to be honest… Why? I hope I didn't make a complete fool of myself.” Letting the guilty expression settle on his face, he attempted a dismissing chuckle but failed miserably. 

They tailed into a grueling silence. Markus’ words had obviously made Simon curious but also preparing for the worst. Markus should’ve told him what they had done; but in that moment, the stretching silence and the blond’s worried gaze became too much and he chickened out. Finally, Markus gestured it indifferent and excused himself out of the situation.

He paced down the empty hallway, mortified by the turn of events. What had just happened? He should’ve guessed Simon had been too drunk to remember. He probably had no idea of how he had got home. 

Outside the hearing range Markus let out a frustrated sigh. The high flying memory of them in the car lost a shade, its brilliance diminishing. The image would’ve been more precious shared. Markus hoped that at least his initiative hadn’t been purely due to intoxication -that it had been because of him. Was that too much to hope for? 

He still didn’t know what had caused Simon’s sober withdrawal. Maybe he _had_ done something nasty.

By that, his tingling excitement was gone. Markus couldn’t get a shred of work done for the rest of the day, joining the army of underperforming workers in the building. Ironic, wasn’t it? How he had swore to not get caught up in any office drama. North made him a face over the divider, mouthing _“boohoo”_ as a commentary to his grim face. 

It was hopeless. Fucking around on the internet pointlessly, Markus couldn’t stop the events from revolving inside his head. Caught up in it and bored out of his mind, he typed Simon’s name on Google out of some spontaneous urge; just for the fun of it.

That turned out unrewarding, too. The man didn’t have any social medias, apart from an old LinkedIn profile equipped with an even older photo of him. Staring intently at his younger, smiling face Markus thought about his secrets and a way to access them. A devilish voice from his right shoulder told him to dig deeper; Markus waited for the angel’s opposition, but as it didn’t came or was too weak he took the former advice.

Soon he was up his eyes in the firm’s information system; specifically in the register of employees. Glancing over his shoulder while scrolling Markus felt antsy as if on illegal waters. The list was practically open for everyone with the company ID, so there shouldn’t have been anything to worry about. At last he stumbled on it; clicking open Simon’s file.

The picture was up to date, at least. Simon’s gentle face smiling at him again Markus took in everything he could. There was hardly anything new to be learned though; he was a model employee in every way imaginable. It was actually impressive. The deeper the dates he wandered, the more apparent his excellence became. Markus scrolled it all the way down, to the very beginning of his achievements at the job. The first date of the timeline was the day the man had been hired; and it came with a note. 

_Reason for earlier dismissal: an offense._

Markus’ eyebrows went up. Simon had been fired from his job before starting here! Giddy, the man wondered if this was the thing he had been looking for. Amused by the thought that Simon could be bad if he wanted, he clicked open more information of his ‘crime’. He was sure it was something petty; as if the man was capable of harming a fly.

Only one word popped up.

_Sexual Harassment_

Markus stared at it blankly. He blinked, but the word wouldn’t be erased. Persistently it dwelt on his file as if staining the whole thing just by existing. Simon’s kind face watched him unaltered above it all, but Markus couldn’t meet his impeccability. He couldn't understand it. How could they be so sure that it wasn’t just some misunderstanding? It had happened years ago: never would he be able to go back and see with his own eyes what had really went down. And so, the word on the page stayed concreted, until Markus had stared it unintelligible, until the screen in front of him had turned black. Something had to be done; he had to _know._

Grabbing his phone, the man typed a single text.

_Hey, I’m staying after hours to catch up. Care to join?_

Simon’s answer came a few minutes later.

_Sure._

It took a few, antagonizing hours for the building to empty. After counting down the minutes for what seemed like an eternity, it was time for Markus to bang his feet down his desk and leave the compartment. Finally.

Pacing down the quiet halls, the man strode towards Simon’s department. It opened like a ghost town from the threshold; desks sitting empty under the pale halogens, the last of the daylight draining out of the hall. But sure enough, in the far corner on his place a head of blond hair was distinguished. Simon was still there, still working, like the reliable and wistful thing he was. Markus stalked over to him, and peeked his head over his computer screen. 

“Simon”, he notified the concerned male of his arrival. Simon jumped, raising his bleary eyes from the screen. Although he must have heard him coming, knowing that it was supposed to happen, he still looked like Markus had dragged him from deep his violent concentration, dug him up from his grave. The hangover must’ve been terrible.

“Markus”, he breathed as an answer to his call. He kept staring at him like the lively man was nothing short of a hallucination. Markus suggested a break. 

The other man watched him attentively as he nodded slowly. Simon stooped down to gather his belongings, but when he turned to aim for the coffee bar, he was stopped by a hand on his arm. “Not there”, the younger man muttered, jerking his head to the opposite direction. Simon nodded absently again, and although confused, he followed him obediently down the eerie corridor. Passing the line of the 20th floor windows, the fitted carpet ate away the sound of their footsteps as if they had never walked there. 

There was a deserted alcove of a red, stained couch at the end of the aisle. It was never really used, and the workplace was empty at that hour anyway. Markus sat down and gestured the other man to do the same; Simon complied, expecting him to pick up his phone casually. But Markus’ eyes never left his profile, and for a few stretching seconds the man felt pretty much under attack.

Markus was experiencing second thoughts. Or third or whatever; all the time spent with Simon recently had been filled with nothing but doubt. He was madly in love with that man, but in the light of the recent incidents and information his hands were tied. He couldn’t go on before he had got to the bottom of it and heard the truth. And it had to come from Simon.

Finally releasing him from the crushing pressure, Markus turned his eyes away and gave a breathless little laugh. Pathetic, wasn’t he? Totally wrapped around Simon’s little finger. While he wasn’t even aware; Markus could feel his pleading gaze from out of the frame, begging to be explained. Markus would have to gather his act, for his sake.

The man leaned back against the cushions, exhaling the constricted air from his lungs. “Just wanted to talk to you”, he said with a smile, wanting to make the blond comfortable. It worked; Simon subconsciously mimicked his body language, sinking deeper into the decorative pillows by his example. Although he still behaved like Markus wanting to talk to him was a downright mirage, his tired brain’s creation, his eyes turned into that classic soft expression the other man had been starved of.

“About what?” he asked innocently, already taken the bait. Markus’ stomach turned on the thought of what he was about to do, but there was no going back. Sternly he decided on it; arm thrown over the cushion, head bent close to his ear.

“I have a secret”, Markus murmured. His voice had an almost dangerous tone, at least promising an adventure; and Simon was hooked beyond remedy. He had his hands crossed casually over his crotch, and Markus saw that he was relaxed enough in his company. 

“Okay”, Simon pronounced slowly, teasingly. “Do you want to tell me or-” 

“I do, but you have to go first.”

Simon pressed his lips together. Markus half expected him to just get up from the sofa and leave him behind in that darkening evening, but he never did. Instead, like little strings were attached to his limbs, he remained there as if already consumed to the core. Markus’ mismatched eyes went dark watching Simon’s expression go from pure interest to afraid. He looked like he had stabbed him. Markus ached to have brought that about, hated to turn the knife.

“I saw the offense in your register. What’s that all about?”

Although softly spoken, leaving him room to object, it still felt like a shot. Markus couldn’t stop Simon’s breath from hitching or prevent his heart from collapsing. He wouldn’t have known that his secret was huger than what their joyful night could endure, what the man’s old-grown soul could endure. But Simon knew; and in spite of everything, he had come to the conclusion that Markus deserved to know. If they were ever going to be more than alienated workmates of the same office, it had to be done. 

He had been waiting for the accusations since the moment they had met. They always came at a certain point, his past remaining a shadow he couldn’t outrun... And so, there was little change in his output, as a convict grown used to the years. The other man followed as pain overtook Simon’s character, as he must’ve realized he couldn’t get away from his sin without giving it a body by words.

“It happened at my first job”, he started eventually. Markus nodded affirmatively, encouraging him to go on. Hesitation replacing his every cell, some kind of numb panic filling his expression he did, only his voice quieting further. 

“I was very young and naive, and I had this colleague. He-” Simon swallowed at the pronoun. 

“He was a man”, he added pointlessly, stupidly like it needed any clarification.

“And I was, uh, crushing on him.”

At that point, Markus became _really_ invested to the story. 

“So after a while I told him, a-and there was nothing to that, I swear” A shaky inhale stabilized the terrible thought. Simon ached to appear casual, as if that had been a casual thing to do, as if it was casual of them to sit in the empty office talking about this. It wasn’t; they were just playing pretend.

“I got rejected, unsurprisingly... But he was so nice about it that I didn't feel bad.” 

Simon sighed. As he opened his eyes again, the evasive gaze had melted into the memory.

“He used to always be so nice to me.” 

It must have felt like Heaven. Markus knew what being in love was like; it was on Simon’s face as he looked back to his beautiful dream. Merely a dream it must’ve been: It was evident that he had crashed hard, from high in the clouds. Returning from the comforting thought to the harsh reality, the ordinary sadness reclaimed its place in Simon’s chest. The settling of the veil that always hung over the man looked devastating to Markus now that he understood its origin.

The story awaited the inevitable turn. Markus waited for him in the darkening evening, the particles of dust piling on the edges of the other’s emptiness, on what had been taken from him. Simon felt the blunt pressure, taking yet another hit, and kept on.

“The next day, he had reported me to our boss for-” 

The term, _‘sexual harassment’_ , was impossible to their evening and unuttered, the sentence was left painfully in the air. Calmly it evolved into a strong presence, like a third uninvited person with them in the room.

“And everybody knew about it, but no one knew the truth. I was fired in a week.” 

Simon closed his eyes momentarily as the rest of the painful memories trundled in. The eyes on his back in the hallways. The silence that descended as he stepped into the meeting room. The locker room he’d soon stop using. The turned away heads. It had made him feel hardly a person; would it have been impossible to explain things? That it had all been a misunderstanding; would anyone have believed him?

He’d thought no. He’d thought that he’d rather decay than open himself up again, and in his silence the others’ words claimed the space he left behind. And every single hurtful one piled up before him like a stone wall so at the end of each one, the collection had grown to obscure the sun, enclosing him in the dark… And by that, Simon was gone.

“Every night I climbed to the rooftop of the company building. But I couldn't do it. I just couldn't.” 

Blinking heavily, the man fought back persistent and obvious tears. Watching him took every piece of Markus’ willpower to not just hug him and tell him to drop the rest. 

The years had lessened its urgency, but it was still there. Shame and regret were the rocks tied to his ankles, pulling him back down into the dark. He saw the tips of his dress shoes, just slightly dangling over the edge. The shoes he had bought just for that job: the polish still dimly reflecting the moonlight. Up until that moment his life had been in order and on the move just right and how it should be. Then everything had went to hell, before he had known it; as if he had wanted to go there. How carelessly had he wasted his life by trusting it to other people, how naively made that choice. But at the end of the line, he was the only curator of his fate and therefore had only himself to blame. 

“What made you keep living?” Markus heard himself ask. His voice sounded far away. It sounded like somebody else’s.

Simon let out a dry laugh. It was completely out of place in the tense situation, and his answer ripped something apart in Markus’ chest. 

“Cowardice.”

Simon was a perfect example of a lonely adult; the type of person who have told their inner child to stop dreaming a long time ago. The only reason he did long hours every day was because he didn’t want to go home alone, although in the end he had to and he did, night after night. All those years of strolling the streets after dusk, heart beating in the dark looking for another’s sound had had their toll on him, making him a tired and dreamless man. He had been looking for love from the people unavailable, from the hollow between his own ribs. But you can’t even mourn a person’s death, if that person is you -and there’s no love to spare for the damned. So alone he had went on, lingering between life and ruin.

Meeting Markus had changed everything. For a short-living moment, basking in the light of his sweet smile and the heavenly inclusivity he offered had been his lifeline. The things that were burdens to him, Markus met with an energy that made his appeal irresistible to anyone, failing to leave any corner of a room cold. He was the life of their worn down office, the light of his repressed little life. Simon wanted it to stay that way, but knew it couldn’t; not after the day he had realized to his heartbreak that Markus was cute.

The realization had triggered the downfall. The idea of love brought him back to that night on the edge. How could he love another man? When the previous had taken so much he had nothing left? Scared of the fall, he had pulled back; distancing himself from Markus deliberately. It was the only way he knew to protect himself. Because ‘love’ had begun to resemble ‘death’ too much; they had too much in common. So, on a tightrope between his cowardice and the jump of faith he had stayed recently, until the night at the bar had affirmed what he really wanted.

The last thing he remembered from there was him trying to tell Markus about it; and for heaven’s sake he hoped that he hadn’t heard. He couldn’t afford to die anymore.

A teardrop escaped running down the side of his face. Simon brushed it away hastily, hoping that Markus hadn't noticed. Markus had. He wondered why he found protecting his sensitivity so urgent with him.

“It was very hard to find a steady job with an offense”, the man continued, as if taking a stance on the practical side of the topic would take away some of its weight. The tremble in his voice backfired his intentions. “I was in and out of life for several years. I was very lucky to land on this one, our boss was very kind to take me in. I was on a trial for a year before becoming a regular, but still.” 

It was over, his confession finished. Simon found himself still vulnerable to the truth. The years didn't matter sometimes; the 21-year-old kid inside him kept him soft to the changes, while time seemed to repeat itself on him, cruelly so. Markus’ unresponsiveness was a catalyst to more distress, but the man couldn't been blamed. Simon knew how much there was to chew. 

“Look, Markus, if you don't want to have anything to do with me, I’m…” _Okay?_ Could he really lie that blatantly to him? From that, the man found his breaking point; the great indecisiveness. 

“Are you gay?” Markus blurted out, crude; as if that was all he had got out of the earlier story. Simon turned to look at him bright red like there was nothing more inappropriate that he could’ve asked. But Markus was unrelenting, the reason for it hiding from the other man’s gaze. Simon turned away embarrassed; the last mild attempt to collect his dignity. 

“Well, I have tried to suppress that… ‘Trait’ of mine, but-”

He was left with no room to finish. Markus wasn’t interested in hearing him defend himself and who he liked; he was frustrated Simon hadn’t realized him the same yet. Finally giving in to the urge he had had all evening, the man plunged his arms around him, crushing the blond between his torso and the backrest of the sofa.

Simon’s soul could have as well left his body. As his startled inhale gave more room, Markus embraced him tighter, as if holding him was the only thing keeping him from falling over the edge. He was certainly not afraid of heights himself. He had fallen for Simon months ago; and would keep falling for his honesty, for all the subliminal things he was yet to know about him. He’d want to collect everything eventually; this was just the beginning. He’d teach him to fly.

Markus lessened his bear hug when he felt like it was enough; when he felt like he had pulled his pieces back to place. Still draped around him, head dangling over his shoulder Markus breathed in his scent, listening to his nervous heartbeat. 

“Do you really not remember?” 

His voice was so low and jaded behind his ear that it made Simon shiver. He stayed silent, wondering if he had angered the younger man, and his reluctance told Markus more than enough. Not angry or even tired, he was impatient; thirsty for the closure. They both wanted the same thing, wasn’t it painfully obvious?

Pulling back minimally, just to be able to see his face Markus studied him, his own ever so serious expression giving little away. Simon looked tired and a little bit surprised, his sad cow eyes skimming his features warily. What do you mean, they seemed to ask. Markus wanted to break it to him.

“We kissed, Simon. In a taxi. I really wanted you to remember because it was the best night of my life.”

He spoke quiet and excited; no doubt if it was the truth. Simon’s eyes widened. Sweaty and confused, he gave a slow blink of his marvelous eyelashes.

“What-” 

But Markus fell once again victim of his urgency and want. As if they had no time. His actions a step ahead of his mind at all times, he pulled Simon into a starved kiss.

He hadn’t believed the accusations for a moment. He thought how could anyone who had spend more than day with him could? There was nothing sinister about that man -it was a rare quality. Some people just wanted to watch the others’ worlds burn. Whoever had made him feel like he was impossible to love was gone; now, he wanted to take his place in his mind, to replace the meaning of love with his image. To be the only one he’d remember.

It wasn’t all possessive. Ever since the man had kissed him first he had wanted to try it, if a kiss on the mouth would free him from being an angel in the making. To cure him from thinking himself unlovable. Their shoulders collided; Simon opened his mouth on demand, and Markus rewarded him. 

He was too soft for this world. Hand moving to the back of his head, the gold-yellow down, Markus steadied his grip and pressed further for a blink of an eye before letting him go. 

Afterwards they were silent and out of breath, taking the moment to re-establish their composure. To Simon it sounded wonderful, what Markus had told him. The alcohol had erased his memory thoroughly, but the idea of Markus taking him home stirred a familiar warmth in his deserted heart. He hadn't thought he could still feel like that. Markus’ fingers slid down his neck, feeling the warm skin above his collar. The present was of a great distraction; after all, it was hard to care of something that had happened last night when it was happening now, right before him. And even more was about to happen. 

“I like you, Simon” Markus said. And just for the formalities, to correct it in some way, added a question:

“What do you say?”

Simon looked irresolute. Markus’ words had captured him, but being put in front of a decision also put him in great distress. Afraid of making the wrong choice -the qualities of right and wrong in this context so muddled to him -he settled on the only safe answer available.

“I think we’re going to get hurt”, he pronounced emphatically, out of experience. Through it all he remained soft-spoken, so painfully in control that Markus swore it his mission to break him out. He guessed Simon was foreboding the rumors that’d inevitably rise about them; the shifting dynamics of their everyday contacts, of becoming The Office Gossip for weeks. The fear of not being able to take it transmitted to him easily; Simon’s hands on his shoulders felt the seams of his dress shirt, preoccupied with the detail in order to take it away.

Markus bumped their foreheads together. “Who cares?”, he whispered with confidence, and at last, Simon raised his curious eyes to meet his. The things that burdened him, Markus was always able to meet with a refreshing point of view. Now, he was dedicated to take on the challenge instead of caving in before it. He lifted the weight. And finally, a tender smile crept on Simon’s lips, like a shy sunrise breaching their listless night. Markus pressed more hasty kisses all over his face: the watery corners of his eyes, the bridge of his nose, the curve of his mouth.

“Alright”, Simon laughed in the middle of the attack. It was everything Markus had asked. Acquired his acceptance, he dug the man out of the cave the past had built him, freeing him from the insecurity. Simon followed him to the light easily, readily, with all his innocence they hadn’t been able to ruin. And Markus would never allow him to retreat again.

The night went on, the canvas far less silent and suffocating than before. In each other’s arms, seen and heard, they waited for the morning knowing that when they returned to the office nothing would be the same again. It would be better. And despite the stones of words inevitably thrown, they’d always have a soft place to fall.


End file.
